


Germs and all

by tauhou



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Canon Queer Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/F, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17667890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tauhou/pseuds/tauhou
Summary: Vanessa has a sore throat.  Charity is kinda helpful, eventually.Mildly consequential sort-of-angsty-fluff.





	Germs and all

**Author's Note:**

> This is a throwback to well before they started living together. I figure it's post-'girlfriends' and pre-ketamine storyline.

Ness blows her nose for what must be the third time in five minutes. It hurts. Her nose is raw, throbbing and completely stuffed. Her throat also hurts, a lot, but it is less immediately annoying than her nose.

She drops the tissue into the bin Tracy had quietly moved next to the sofa before she'd gone out, and settles herself deeper into the cushions and blankets on the sofa. She goes back to watching Series 7 of The Great British Bake Off and trying to work out if Sue Perkins is cute or just annoying. She isn't sure if it is her addled brain or not, but she keeps changing her mind.

Mary has just made an intense young man with an earnest smile blush right to the roots of his hair with a generous compliment about a sweet bread of some kind when there's a rattle from the lock and Charity lets herself in. Her cheeks are slightly pink from the cold outside, and there's a bounce in her step as she crosses the room.

"Hey babe, was wondering where you'd got to. Dropped by the vet's and all I got was an earful from Pearl about appointments and schedules and barging through doors without knocking on them first. Needs to work on her customer service if you ask me." She looks Ness up and down and tips her head. "What're you doing here, anyway, all bundled up like a pile of damp laundry?"

Ness points to her neck. "Sore throat," she croaks, wincing.

"Oh babe," Charity leans forward sympathetically before her face splits with a broad grin. "Lovely colour your nose is going there, really brings out the red in your eyes."

Ness fires back a frosty look which says "Thanks awfully, I feel ever so much better now," while saving herself the stabbing sensation she gets when she swallows.

"Well, I had been looking for a quick moment or two of alone time with you, but I think you and your germs is a bit of a crowd, eh?" She leans one hand on the end of the sofa, her eyes wide, that grin still playing across her face.

Ness sighs.

"Unless you're into the whole nurse's uniform bit. I could grab a stethoscope." Charity raises her eyebrows. "Give you a thorough exam?"

She would have sassed her girlfriend back, but it would definitely hurt her more than Charity and her brain is too full of goo to produce anything worth the pain of saying it. So instead she rolls her eyes, points at the empty bottle of water on the coffee table and tips her head hopefully.

"Oh," Charity nods, "poorly wee moppet needs watering. Got it babe." Charity sweeps past Ness and fills the bottle from the tap in the kitchen, dropping it back onto the table with her finger tips. Ness thinks she might stop for a moment, but she keeps on walking, saying "Yeah, well, not that good me at this actual nursing business, so I'd best be back to work. Punters need serving and all that." She turns as she nears the front door, smiling at Ness softly. "Enjoy the time off, yeah." Then she's back out the front door, her fingers waggling goodbye as she closes it behind her.

Ness drops her head onto the back of the sofa. "Bye" she mouths at the ceiling.

She had been hoping that a full-time relationship with another adult would've meant she got a bit of tlc when her health had the odd stumble. But apparently not.

She drags her head back up to vertical, and puffs out a breath through her mouth. She shouldn't complain really. It's not like Charity isn't usually well worth it one way or another. More than. She's noticed herself feeling irritatingly smug from time to time these days. And she has support. Loads of it. Tracy had been great this morning, coming around, bringing her tea in bed and getting Johnny sorted. And her dad was taking him for the day at short notice. She knows Rhona will always be there with anything if she really needs her. She's blessed with a very caring and thoughtful family and she's not asking anything of anyone that they wouldn't give freely.

She fiddles with the edge of the blanket she's got bundled over her legs. And, if she levels with herself, Charity Dingle was not the girlfriend to put top of her list if Mother Theresa was the thing she was after. And it isn't.

She shakes her head, smoothing the blanket out. It's not worth thinking about really.

She digs out another tissue and blows her nose again. Twice. Chucks the tissue in the bin and takes a cautious sip of water from the bottle. It's brutal on her raw throat, but she manages another couple of sips in the interests of staying at least a little hydrated. After some thought, she concludes she isn't hungry enough to get up out of the blankets and goes back to ignoring the finer culinary points of a special type of steamed bun that is deeply loved in some part of the Netherlands.

\--

She must have drifted off then, because she comes to with the only Yorkshire lass having been kicked off the show, and the shadows lengthening outside. Her face feels puffy and her mouth feels sandy. She rubs her eyes, grabs another swig of water and decides against trying to drink another. It hurts too much. She checks her phone, which informs her that she can't take any more paracetamol for at least another half hour. So she sits there for a while trying to pretend she doesn't need to pee, or blow her nose, but eventually pauses the show and gets up. She groans. Everything aches, and she feels woozy enough that she has to stop half-way up the stairs to catch her breath before she can continue.

When she eventually makes it back from the loo, Charity is poking about in the kitchen.

Ness has made it clear to the bottom of the stairs before Charity notices her and throws her a quick look. "Oh, hey babe. Still under the weather?"

Ness nods and plops back down on the sofa. "I thought you had work on," she grumbles and grabs listlessly at the blankets, trying to get back to the comfortable arrangement she had before she had to go upstairs.

"Hey, here. Let me." Charity has somehow arrived in Ness's personal space without her really noticing. Ness tries to breathe in, to catch the familiar scent of her, but she can't smell a bloody thing.

"Begged some time off from Chas to make you this." Charity is waving a mug full of an orange fluid in front of her face.

"This is one of the only decent things dad ever did for me. Orange juice, honey, hot water and whiskey. It will sort that throat out faster than Joe Tate can evict a family of orphans from their childhood home."

Ness looks dubiously at it, but takes the cup cautiously and breathes in through her mouth. Even through the general stuffed-up-ness she can taste the whiskey.

"Whiskey?"

"Yes, you daft mare. Dingle medicine. Come on try it."

Ness screws up her face. "Your dad gave you this as a kid?

"Yeah. As I said before babe, Dingle medicine." she nudges Ness's arm.

Ness looks at first the mug, then her girlfriend, frowning. Her throat still hurts like hell, and she doesn't feel up to experimentation with traditional Dales remedies, no matter how well meant.

"Oh come on, I'm not going to try giving it to Johnny or anything; I run a pub remember, I know the rules." She looks at Ness and manages a small smile. "Seriously, babe." she says more gently. "It won't hurt you, just do you good."

Ness really wants to point out that her girlfriend has changed her tune since this morning, and maybe she should sod off and leave her to wallow in peace - but she still doesn't fancy using her voice for anything resembling a proper moan, so she just glares weakly at Charity and eventually takes a sip of the drink.

It is... good actually. Despite Charity's consistent lack of interest in her kitchen, she's managed to pull this concoction off pretty well. It is warm, sweet and, possibly due to the spirits, numbing her throat pretty effectively. Ness raises her eyebrows and gives Charity a begrudging nod.

"See. Told you." Charity's smirk is obvious, but the annoyance factor is dialed back a bit.

Ness takes another sip.

Satisfied her girlfriend is going to keep drinking, Charity starts to rearrange the blankets and pillows, settling herself next to Ness.

"So, what is this posh nonsense you're watching? Downton Abbey goes camping?" She slides a sideways glance at Ness. "Great British Bake Off. Series 7. Right then. Well, you'd better catch me up on the plot. Ow!" She makes much of rubbing her thigh where Ness's fingers have flicked. She opens her mouth to loose another crack, but stops when she catches Ness's expression. "Well," she says in a gentler tone, "that throat of yours must really be pretty bad if you've resorted to the BBC's finest." She stretches her arm along the back of the sofa, and Ness leans in, still sipping at the drink.

By the end of the cup, Charity has started rolling her eyes and muttering every time Paul Hollywood comes on screen. She does seem to pay unusually close attention when Mel has a moment with a raspberry fondant though. The booze in the drink coupled with the effects of the virus makes Ness's head heavy, so she rests it on Charity's breast, the taller woman going still for a moment, before dropping her hand onto Ness's shoulder, drawing her closer. Ness sighs, relaxing into the soft warmth.

\--

She realises later that she's fallen asleep again, cause she wakes up with her head in Charity's lap, and they've only got four bakers left.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she croaks, sitting up and starting to get herself back together. Charity was correct about the drink. Her head is still full of cold, but her throat no longer feels like someone has taken to it with a beltsander.

"Ah, you're alright." Charity shrugs, leaning forward to put the cup on the table. "You looked rather sweet there, snoring away in your little cocoon."

"But your shift..." Ness squints and then regrets it. "I thought you had to go back and serve pints or something."

"I texted Chas and told her I thought you had the thing she had a week ago and she let me cry off. Told me to tell you she's very sorry you have to go through the full horror of that cold with me for a girlfriend."

Ness completely fails to stop a smile sneaking onto her face. "Oh, you're pretty good really. All things considered."

Charity smiles softly in return, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. "Well, don't tell her that or she'll never let me off again. Oh, and Tracy texted, your dad is taking Johnny for the night." She looks over at Ness. "Says it's no trouble."

Ness nods, her shoulders relaxing. She hadn't realised how much of herself she had been keeping in reserve to look after her son tonight. She'd go to hell and back for him without a second thought, but that doesn't mean it'd be fun. For either of them. Her dad will make a fuss of him and they'll probably both have a great time. With any luck she'll get a decent night's sleep and be back up to speed tomorrow.

Charity is looking at her, considering. "You look perkier. Think you could cope with a spot of actual food?"

"You? cook?" Ness is still groggy from sleep, and her words sound squeaky and unintentionally dismissive.

Charity looks sharply at her. "I'll have you know, I make an excellent peanut butter sandwich, five times out of ten."

"Oh, give o'er. I've seen you make the odd edible fish finger when called on in emergencies." She's softened her voice, but is still clumsy with her words, and there's a tartness in them she doesn't mean.

Charity raises an eyebrow slowly. "Do you want a sandwich or not, babe, cause I could go either way."

"Charity." she huffs. "I'm too tired to go any way honestly. But I should really eat something before I fall asleep again." She takes a breath; looks at Charity cautiously. "If you put peanut butter on one piece of bread, I could put jam on the other, and then we'd have practically made dinner."

Charity drops her eyes, rubbing one thumb across the palm of her other hand. "Hardly nutritionally sound, babe."

Ness shrugs. "Secrets of a super mum's kitchen. Go with what you can feasibly make that the patient will actually eat." She gets a smile out of Charity for that. Followed by a passable version of a soppy look. It segues into something more thoughtful that Ness can't quite read, and she has no idea how long it takes before Charity shakes her head softly.

"I think I can stretch to jam and peanut butter. Stay there a sec." And she's off into the kitchen, banging around through cupboards. Ness watches as she digs out a small plate, a knife and smartly constructs a sandwich. She presents it to Ness with a flourish.

"Weep Marlon, in the face of my culinary prowess."

Ness laughs soundlessly, then says. "Looks proper top shelf. Thank you."

Charity grins with half her face as Ness takes the plate and smiles back at her around a small bite of sandwich.

"Eat up." Charity smiles cockily, and heads into the kitchen to tidy up the sandwich things. When she comes back to pick up the plate, Ness catches her hand and licks a trace of jam off the corner of her mouth. She feels a momentary triumph when Charity draws a breath in deeper than usual.

She drops her eyes briefly. "You don't want to dig out a stethoscope of some kind after all?"

A slow smile spreads across Charity's face, and she grazes her eyes over Vanessa, a light in her eye.

Yes. Ness thinks. She's definitely feeling a bit better. But, realistically, not quite that much better. Not just yet anyway. "Maybe tomorrow night. I might be free." She's hoping the sore throat will lend her a sultry tone when she drops to a lower register, but she ends up having a coughing fit instead.

When she gets her breath back, Charity is holding the plate and has her other hand on Ness' shoulder. "Maybe wait till the weekend, yeah? Don't want you hoicking up a lung mid-snog." Her look is warm, and she reaches up to run her hand down Ness's cheek. "I think we'd best get you to bed now anyway. And by yourself. I've no mind to be calling an ambulance tonight."

\--

Ness is arranging herself in bed when Charity drops off fresh water and a new box of tissues to her bedside.

"Right, that lot should see you through till tomorrow." She leans over and looks at Ness critically, her hair swinging down over her shoulders. Then she sketches a small smile and straightens up to leave.

Ness can't help herself; doesn't really want to. "Stay?"

"Can't babe. Got to get Noah to school in the morning, yeah? And Ross is due to drop Moz off for a bit in the morning so he can get away early for an emergency job before the child minders open. You'll be alright. Tracy will save you if it comes to that."

Ness looks up at Charity. She's trying for low-key chic and self-sufficient, but knows she's not making it.

"Hey, I'd stay if I could."

"Germs and all?"

Charity's face is a picture. But she eventually says, "Germs and all," and leans in to kiss her forehead, her fingers lingering on her jaw. She gives Ness a wry smile as she shuts the bedroom door, and Ness feels a familiar pang as she goes.

She wants the company tonight honestly, her bed feels vast around her despite the extra duvet and the water and the tissues.

She sighs. She knows she can get through this herself. It's just a sore throat, nothing like as bad as the flu she had while on placement at that sheep farm in Wales in her last year at uni. She's had much worse colds than this and got through them fine. She just needs to get herself in hand and settle down and get some rest. She blows her nose one last time, hoping it'll stop dripping for long enough that she can get to sleep, and pauses, breathing out and in. She's a grown up, making her own choices. And she can take care of herself. Always has.

And it's not like moping is going to get her anywhere. Not with Charity any road.

She reaches out to turn off the light, and rolls herself up in the duvet, burying her head in the pillows, and then readjusting her position when she realises she can't breathe properly. She stares at the darkened wall of her bedroom, waiting for sleep to ruddy well turn up and put her out of her misery.

It doesn't come. All she can think about is what is missing from her bed.

After far too long, and another round of blowing her nose, she starts listing the names of all the muscles in Caprinae, noting the differences between sheep, goats and some of the non-domesticated species as she goes. It's a drill she's used since second year, and it's usually a pretty reliable way to quiet her mind and get off to sleep.

She's half-way through the muscles of the head and neck when the simple way Charity said 'germs and all' sneaks into her mind, and a warm feeling, not unlike the hot whiskey drink weaves its way through her chest. It's heady and swoopy and might just be her cold getting worse. She pushes back at it, scrunching up her face. She's got people relying on her and she can't afford to build ridiculous daydreams in her head. Which is great. And sensible. And what everyone expects.

But a part of her pipes up. That small insistent voice which says, 'Maybe there could be something, somehow. Maybe.'

**Author's Note:**

> Charity has a key to Ness's place. Of course she does. How else can she let herself in after she finishes a late shift?


End file.
